


Show Me Love

by DyslexicSquirrel



Series: Salvation [3]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Smut, Top Steve Rogers, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicSquirrel/pseuds/DyslexicSquirrel
Summary: Steve and Bucky get married





	Show Me Love

Being mortal was not what I expected. Of course, I’d never had any expectationsI’d ever be mortal, so I couldn’t say what my expectations were to begin with. Things hurt. Not all the time, mind you, but I experienced pain I never had before and I didn’t heal as fast. You know what really sucked? Headaches. 

But what made it all worth it? Steve. Steve was the silver lining to every muscle cramp when we went on runs together or brain freeze when we went to Coney Island to get ice cream. Nothing could be completely bad as long as Steve was around. 

The first time I got sick? It was really just a cold (or so I was told, but I’d felt like death), Steve stayed home from work until I was better m, planted my whiny ass on the couch, and took care of me. We watched crappy movies and he made me soup—actually  _ made  _ me soup, from scratch. “My mother’s recipe,” he’d said, smiling at me softly. He kept the Tylenol coming every eight hours like clockwork and pressed kisses to my forehead when I drifted off to sleep even though I was all gross and sniffly. 

As wonderful as Steve was, though, I kept waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Kept waiting for him to get tired of me, tell me “This has been fun, but I don’t think it’s working out” and show me the door. We went to sleep every night curled around each other, with Goose sleeping at my feet—he finally decided he liked me sometime during my first week living in Steve’s house—but I still found myself wondering. 

The sex was great. I guessed that surprised me most of all. I don’t know if maybe I just assumed that without my succubus nature sex would suddenly pale in comparison, but it didn’t. The first few times after The Night as I liked to call it, getting me ready had been difficult—prep as a succubus had been something I did for my human partners to make them feel more comfortable—it hadn’t been necessary for me since my ass stretched to accommodate. Steve was patient and took his time, so gentle it made me want to cry, the care he took with my body. Not that he didn’t fuck me raw somedays. When I asked nicely. 

It was harder for me to get off sometimes, too, but Steve never got frustrated or left me hanging. He was an attentive, generous, and surprisingly  _ adventurous  _ lover. After a year of living together, we’d fucked in every room of the house, in a lot of positions I’d almost forgotten about in my years alive. Most mortal men in my experience had two settings—missionary or doggy. Not Steve. He liked looking at me, at the way he could arrange my body. 

Also, Stevie had an oral fixation that might end up being the death of me. I was often woken up with his mouth on my dick and for someone who had never given a blow job before, he was a fast learner. His new favorite thing? Felching. Ever since we had stopped using condoms, Steve was fascinated with watching his come drop out of my hole before sucking and licking it out. He was really good at that, too. 

Steve was just good. His friends loved him, he’d been an actual Boy Scout growing up—he took me camping a few times which I was not the biggest fan of now that I had to deal with mosquitos (they tended to leave minions of hell alone). He smiled at strangers, helped elderly people at the grocery store load bags into their trunk. One time a little girl who loved down the street had been outside crying when Steve got home from work. Turned out her cat had climbed a tree and gotten stuck. You know what Steve did? Got the ladder out of the shed and got the stupid thing down. 

It wasn’t that all demons were bad—that was the party line pushed by most organized religions—or that I hadn’t met good humans before Steve. They weren’t and I had. There were even a few demons I missed and had been friends with as much as anybody Below can have friends. But Steve just seemed to inhabit another level. 

He wasn’t perfect, but he always tried. Even when we fought, which happened because I was a millennia old demon who was set in my ways and frustrated by my new limitations, he never let us go to bed angry. And it wasn’t always makeup sex either, sometimes he would just hold me and apologize (if it was his fault) or ask if I was okay (if it was mine, which it usually was). “Just because we fight doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, Buck.” 

God, I’d been a mess that night, the first night Steve said that to me—something he repeated many other night after. Because it had been the first night he said he loved me. I cried like a baby because I thought maybe, just maybe, this could actually work and we would be fine.  _ I  _ would be fine. 

I didn’t always believe it, though. Even after Steve asked me to marry him, I kept thinking that it was too good to be true and I didn’t deserve this messy, amazing life with Steve. He had proposed on Thanksgiving of all days. His friends—our friends now I guessed—had been over, eating, talking loudly, laughing. Just having an amazing time being together. It had definitely caught some of them off guard that Steve was dating me—seriously, mortals could be so ridiculous when it came to things like this—but they accepted it and they accepted me. 

And I was seriously thanking the Creator for the whole forgetting-after-sleeping-with-a-sex-demon thing because, small world that it was, I had slept with Steve’s boss. It was during what felt like a different life, when the man was twenty some odd years younger, when he was drunk at a frat party, but it would have been awkward to explain why I looked exactly the same if he had remembered me. 

I hadn’t wanted to tell them about my being a former succubus. Steve had said it was my choice and I just didn’t want them looking at me differently after they found out. I also didn’t want all the questions: What’s hell like? Are angels real? Don’t all demons have horns? Aren’t you evil? Have you met Satan? What’s he like? And blah blah blah, just things I didn’t want to think about. Who I had been before was just that—who I had been before. 

My birth name was lost to the sands of time. I was born in Rome during the reign of Trajan, a fact I only knew because someone had told me and for some reason it stuck in my brain. I didn’t remember my mother. I don’t think I was with her long. I can only assume when she pushed me out and noticed the black eyes and claws that she got rid of me as fast as possible. It was easier in those days, too, because people were closer to the old ways (which weren’t old back then) and you only needed to find a mystic to summon a demon for you to offload unwanted spawn. 

Time Below was different. It was Above, too, I had heard, but seeing as I’d never been there, I didn’t know from experience. But the time difference coupled with the fact that demon babies grew faster, I wasn’t in the care of my keeper (the one my master put in charge of my care until I was mature) for long before I was sent to one of the training houses. I lived there until I was deemed ready to be unleashed on the mortal world. Proficient enough in seduction to not starve on my own. 

I didn’t like to think about my time in the training house. My master had taken a  _ liking  _ to me. He visited often and took a personal interest in my training. The word ‘no’ didn’t exist. Not for a succubus with their master and that time seemed to stretch on. It had been the only time I’d ever had to pretend to enjoy sex, when he summoned me. But maybe it was because it had nothing to do with feeding. After I was able to pick my own partners it was different. I had to do it to survive, sure, but I liked each and every man and woman I had been with in one way or another. 

None of them could hold a candle to Steve, though. He might be my salvation, but I think I would have loved him anyway. He didn’t make me forget all the shitty things that had happened in my life, there was too much, but he made the shorty things bearable. He never made me tell him things I wasn’t ready for, either. He didn’t push for details of my past. 

My lying to his—our—friends was something I knew bothered him, but he respected my choice. As far as they knew, I was James Buchanan Barnes originally from Indiana. I had no living family and I’d moved to New York City to get a fresh start. Thank dully when I gained my mortality, my current identity remained intact. I might not pass a government background check if someone dig a little too deep. I don’t really know if the powers that be would let someone actually dig too deeply to be honest. They had a vested interest in maintaining my cover. But I had my job, I could get on a plane, open up a credit card, stuff like that. 

The friend group bought my story, which was the only thing that really mattered. They were great; I actually really liked them. Sam and Scott were a riot and Scott still hadn’t stopped going on about the fact that he knew deep down that Steve couldn’t have been totally straight. “BDE like that? And an ass that’s basically a national treasure. Please. It would be a crime against humanity to only let women experience that,” Scott had said the first time he met Bucky. He’d leaned in to whisper none to quietly, “The sex is great isn’t it? You can tell me.” 

Steve had blushed furiously, Sam had dragged off his husband while laughing uproariously, and everyone else his smiles behind their hands. The tension afterwards had been broken, though, and I relaxed. I didn’t have to watch my tongue (or my hands which really didn’t like being far away from Steve) around them. I was a sex demon—former or no—and we appreciated baudy humor and sex was not an off limits topic. Didn’t appear to be for Steve’s—our, damnit—friends either. 

Tony was a shameless flirt (something I remembered) and how wide Pepper might scold him when he got really out of hand, but her lips always twitched while she was doing it. Sam like innuendos and Scott, well, yeah, there wasn’t anything he considered “private or personal”. That hadn’t been the first or last time he asked about Steve’s and my sex life. Natasha and Clint getting together had almost shocked people more than me being with Steve. They started out as fuck buddies (and for some reason that Steve didn’t want to talk about, he always made sure the two didn’t sneak off together when they were over), but they were actually dating now. 

There were other friends and casual acquaintances that I had met over the last year, along with the rest of Steve’s coworkers at the company Christmas party. There had been an open bar and that was the night I realized that I could 1) get drunk now and 2) could not hold my liquor. Steve took me home after I started trying to drunkenly take his clothes off (he’d looked really hot in his suit, okay?) and tucked me into bed. When I woke up the next morning, hungover and nauseous, he had gotten me to the bathroom and held my hair back while I hung my head over the toilet. 

But, anyway, I don’t think I really accepted that, yes, this—Steve and I—were forever until today. Because we were getting married. The backyard was set up with a makeshift aisle, chairs on either side for our guests, and the gazebo (because Steve  _ had  _ one of those  _ in his backyard _ ) was decorated with flowers and colored ribbon. There was a buffet set up inside for the reception afterwards. My boss from the bar, as it turned out, was an ordained minister and Nick offered his services for the ceremony. 

“I’m not going to charge you,” he’d told me. “Consider than your wedding present.” The asshole had still put an envelope on the gift table anyway. 

Darcy, one of the other bartenders was in photography school and as soon as Steve found out, over dinner one night when I’d invited her over to the house a few months back and she’d shown us some of her work, he asked if she wanted to take photos for the wedding. 

“Shut up. Oh my god, are you for real?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling over the rim of his wine glass. “I got lucky landing a job after art school, but not everyone is.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to him it wasn’t because that was just the kind of man Steve was. But I could see how much it meant to Darcy and that Steve would give that opportunity to someone he barely knew, someone I considered a friend, meant a lot. 

Everyday I fell in love with him just a bit more. 

Now we were getting dressed in our bedroom, wearing tuxes Tony had insisted he buy because as he said, “You both are fashion disasters and you’re going to be looking at these pictures forever.” 

He’d added, “Besides, I’m assuming I’m going to be your best man, Steve. It’s already going to be hard enough for you to look better than me. It is you’re wedding,” he sighed. “I guess I can manage to take second place for  _ one _ day.” 

“Uh…” Steve had said, throwing me a glance. We hadn’t talked about having best men. I thought it was really just because Steve knew I didn’t have anyone to ask. But it looked like Tony was appointing himself as Steve’s and Bucky was learning that was just how Tony was. It wasn’t like he would get mad if Steve told him no, but I think Steve wanted to do all the traditional stuff. 

This was something I could do for him, when he had done so much for me already. I gave him a shrug that said it’s-your-choice. He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling at me softly. “That’d be great, Tony. We would appreciate it. And of course you’re my best man. Who else would I ask?” 

Later that day, when we were snuggled on the couch, Steve asked, “Are you sure it’s alright? About Tony being my best man?” 

“Of course,” I said, rubbing my hand over his chest. “You don’t always have to protect me from everything, you know, Stevie. I’ve been through worse than not having someone to ask to be my best man at my wedding.” 

Steve turned a serious look on me, furrow between his brows. “It’s not about protecting you, Bucky. It’s because you’ve been through so many worse things. I just want to make things perfect for you.” 

“You already do, you punk.” I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to the tv. And he did, just being Steve. He might want to make things perfect for me, but what he didn’t take into account was that I wanted to make things perfect for him, too. 

“Do you know how to tie this thing?” Steve’s voice pulled me back to the present and I stuck my head out of the bathroom to see him standing in front of the antique standing mirror, holding both ends of the bow tie that’s draped around his neck. 

He was so handsome he took my breath away. He had started growing a beard recently and I hadn’t been sure how I felt about it, but it was growing on me. I loved the feeling of the hair against my skin. And since I’d bought beard oil—which I insisted on applying myself—the air was softer. Sometimes I would just nuzzle his cheek while he laughed at me. 

“Yeah, I do.” I walked out of the bathroom after I finished brushing my teeth. I put my hair up in a messy bun while I walked, dressed in nothing but my boxer briefs. I smirked at the way Steve’s eyes roamed my body as I walked. 

His hands settled on my hips when I stopped in front of him. His brows rose and he watched me as I tied his tie. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting dressed? I can’t really get married without you.” 

I smiled, keeping my eyes on what my hands were doing. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you standing at the altar—or gazebo. Whatever. Won’t take me long to put my suit on. There, done.” 

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” 

“Plenty,” I said, remembering the disaster of trying to make pancakes for the first time. I had never bothered to make them myself because… well, making pancakes for one had seemed lonely. But they came out lumpy and burnt. Steve had actually tried to  _ eat  _ them, sweet, stupid man. “But I’ve been alive for a long time, remember? There was a point in history when bow ties were popular.” 

“I wish I could have known you then,” Steve said, cupping my face. 

“No, you don’t.” I smoothed down the collar of his shirt. “I wasn’t always like I am now. There were some low points. I haven’t always been proud of who I am.” 

“Hey.” His voice was firm, a tone I rarely heard from him, and I looked up at him in surprise. “Whoever you were, whatever you did in the past, it’s just that—in the past. The only thing that matters is now.” 

“I love you, Steve.” So much I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to put it in words. “Let’s go get married.” 

“As soon as you put some clothes on,” he said, cocking a brow. “I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.” 

I laughed and went to put on my suit. And if I bent over more than I had to while I did, well, some habits died hard, especially when you’re a former sex demon.

* * *

The ceremony was perfect. All our friends lined up on either side of the aisle (and some regulars from the bar, a few like Jane and Thor who were friends of Darcy’s because I didn’t know that many people). 

Tony stood at the gazebo, dressed in a maroon suit with a white rose on his lapel, with Nick who, surprise surprise, was wearing black. Steve and I walked down the aisle together since neither one of us had parents to give us away even if we’d wanted them to. Our tuxes were white and we each had red roses pinned to our lapels. My grip on Steve’s hand had to be tight enough to hurt, but he just smiled at me in reassurance. 

When we reached the end of the aisle and got to the top of the gazebo steps, taking our place in front of Nick who’s standing off to the side, Tony moved to stand behind both of us. “I’m your best man, too, Barnes,” he said with a wink when I looked at him in confusion. When I looked at Steve I’m silent question, he shrugged, trying to look innocent. The jerk must have said something to Tony

At our insistence, Nick kept the ceremony simple. But Steve and I wrote our own vows. Another big shocker (sense the sarcasm), Steve’s were way better than mine and most of the guests were crying by the time he was done. I wasn’t much better. 

“You, James Barnes, were completely unexpected. When I pictured my life, you weren’t who I saw spending the rest of my life with, but apparently that’s just because I’m stupid.” A few people laughed at this and Steve waited until the noise died down to continue. “Because you are everything I never knew I needed. You make me laugh and you being so much joy into my life. I never thought I could be this happy. And I’m the luckiest man in the world because you agreed to marry me. Even though we can’t agree on how to load the dishwasher and you always leave your clothes on the floor when the hamper is  _ right there _ .” 

I stuck my tongue out at him, laughing along with everyone else, but there were already tears welling in my eyes. Steve squeezes my hands, his smile radiant. “I can’t wait to grow old with you, Buck.” 

I had to hide my face against his chest for a moment, laughing through my tears, while a wave of awww’s filled the backyard. When I felt I had my shit together I lifted my head. 

“I’m supposed to follow that up? There’s no way I can top that.” I roll my eyes at my soon-to-be husband, but he was completely unrepentant for one upping me at our wedding. 

“I’ve never been great with words and it took me a while to figure out what I wanted to say. In the end, I decided to just say how glad I am that you chose me.” No one else knows the real significance behind those words. Steve chose to save me when he had the choice. He didn’t have to, but he took a chance on me. “You changed my life and I’ll never be able to tell you how much even if we had eternity. I love you, Steven Grant Rogers. And I can’t wait to grow old with you either.” 

Steve pulled me into his arms and kisses me because he  _ knows _ how big that is. He welcomed me into his life and saved a soul I didn’t even think I had. I gave up immortality for him, which in the grand scheme of things seems inconsequential. But I know Steve worried I’d regret it one day. 

“Hey, I did not say you could do that yet,” Nick said, and Steve and I pull away from each other with a laugh. 

“Okay, so, can you? I’d like to kiss my husband, if you don’t mind,” I tell him, looking at him expectantly. 

Nick glared at us, but he did hold out his arms. “In the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you two married. Now you can kiss each other, motherfuckers.” 

I was laughing so hard that it was hard for Steve and I to kiss, but I didn’t care. It was perfect. 

*

Later that night, I found Steve talking to a group of people, sipping a glass of champagne. Food had been eaten, formal pictures taken, and we had mingled enough as far as I was concerned. I slipped my arm around Steve’s waist, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Hey, husband.” 

“Hey, there yourself, husband.” His arm hooked around my waist and he pulled me closer, planting a kiss on my lips. 

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to steal him away for a moment,” I tell the people Steve was talking to. I don’t know who they are and don’t care. I just want Steve. I start steering him toward the stairs. 

“What’s up?” 

“What’s up is that I want my new husband to fuck me,” I murmur into his ear. 

“Oh.” He looks down at me with interest as we climb the stairs. “I think I can deal with that.” 

“You better,” I said, trying to sound stern. “You married an ex-sex demon. It’s kind of part of the package.” 

“Mhmm, I do think I remember getting that memo,” Steve said before claiming my lips in a deep kiss, pulling me close with one hand palming my ass. He pushed me through our open bedroom door, shutting it behind us and pausing only long enough to lock it. Then he was devouring my mouth again, tasting every inch of my mouth he could reach, and backing me further into the room. “How do you want it, baby?” 

The words were spoken against my lips, making me shiver. I worked my hands underneath his jacket, dragging my nails down his back over his shirt. “Bend me over the bed. Don’t be gentle, I wanna be wrecked.” 

Steve growled and bit my lower lip. Then the world spun and I found myself folded over the foot of the bed, a large hand on the back of my neck pressing until my chest was pressed to the mattress. I turned my face to the side so I could breath, but also because that meant I would be able to see Steve in the mirror. I felt hands on my belt and watched as my husband I did my belt, popped the button, and slid down the zipper. Then my pants were unceremoniously pulled down to my ankles. I still didn’t like wearing underwear, which meant I was bare, my dick leaking against the comforter, ass in the air. 

“Stay,” Steve said, patting my ass, and rounding the bed. I could see him in the mirror open the drawer to the nightstand and grab the lube. I couldn’t help the moan that slipped passed my lips because I knew what was coming. And I knew that I was going to get this for the rest of my life (or at least until Steve and I were too old to move). Just me; no one else. Steve was mine and I was his. 

I let my eyes drift shit, just wanting to hear. The sound of the cap on the lube bottle clicking open, the obscene sound (to me) of lube being squeezed out of a bottle and then silence while Steve spread it on his fingers. Silence that was only broken by my gasp when he spread my cheeks with one hand and swirled them around my opening. 

I grunted when two, thick fingers started easing into my hole. It was a stretch, we hadn’t had sex at all today with everything that was going on, but that was one of the reasons I was so desperate for it. I was greedy for Steve, all of him, anything I could get. I wanted to feel his skin on mine, his beard against the insides of my thighs, his lips everywhere, his hands, his cock. 

But when I tried to push back on Steve’s fingers a firm touch on my hip stopped me. I told Steve to not be gentle, to wreck me, but he would never hurt me or let me hurt myself—I was precious to him and he was a good man. That protectiveness had started the first night and could continue on for however long we had. 

I painted, but I kept the movements of my hips to a slow rocking, helping Steve slowly ease his fingers inside me. He twisted and scissored them, stretching my hole for his cock, before easing a third lubed finger in with the first two. “Steve,” I moaned. “I need you.” 

“You’ll get me,” he assured, smoothing the hand not busy drilling my ass to the base of my spine, rubbing it in slow circles. 

“We’re married,” I could help but remind him, laughing, the sound joyous. I opened my eyes to look at him in the mirror just as he leaned over to press a kiss to the swell of my ass. 

“We are.” I saw his smile when he stood, and his eyes met mine in our reflection. He held me in his gaze while he gave my prostate a passing graze and then removed his fingers from clenching hole. He reached for the bottle of lube, squeezed a generous amount on his hand and covered his cock with it. I hadn’t even noticed him open his pants I’d been so distracted by his fingers. But then the bulbous tip of his cock was pressing against my entrance and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. I wanted to watch the look on his face as he sunk into me. 

Steve kept his attention on where he was slowly entering me, a look of fierce concentration on his face, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched. Fuck, I loved it when he was like this. So focused. He didn’t raise his eyes to mine in the mirror until he bottomed out, his hips touching my ass. His hands gripped my hips, getting a good hold. “You ready, baby?” 

I was beyond words, already clenching around his hard length, so I nodded, but it was enough. Steve’s hips drew back, just the feeling of him pulling out of me until the head of his dick catching at my rim enough to drive me crazy. Steve used his hold on my hips to pull me back when he slammed his hips forward, shocking a grunt from me, again then Steve—my husband—was fucking me into the mattress. 

I had tried to brace myself, but the comforter didn’t offer much traction and I slid forward only to have Steve pull me right back. I was a moaning mess—Steve always did that to me, made me make sounds I didn’t think I was capable of—cock slapping against the side of the mattress with each of Steve’s thrusts. 

I tried to pull one of my legs free from my pants, got thwarted by my shoe, and made some frustrated noise. It was enough to alert Steve because he used his foot to help me slip out of my shoe, all the while thrusting into hole, grazing my prostate when my squirming to get my leg free didn’t mess up his angle. When my leg was free, I planted my knee on the mattress, spreading myself wider, letting Steve slide in deeper. 

Like this, open and willing, Steve nailed my prostate on each thrust, and I came without even touching my cock, practically sobbing. Steve curled over my back, face buried in the crook of my neck, movement of his hips not slowing down, but going shallow, until he drilled with a grunt. I sighed when I felt him start to come inside me, his cock twitching inside my depths, arms going right around me, a gentle kiss pressed to the side of my neck. “I love you,” he murmured, breath brushing my ear. 

It made me shiver. I hummed in reply because he really had wrecked me and I didn’t think I was capable of human speech. We stayed that way, wrapped up in each other, basking in the afterglow, while Steve slowly went soft inside me. I could feel Steve’s come start to leak down my inner thighs. I felt myself drifting off, not quite sleeping, but close. 

Of course the day, hell the past year, had been going to well. Because someone behind us cleared their throat, someone who sounded female. Steve stood with a curse, slipping out of me with no resistance since he was soft and I was so loose, then something soft draping over my ass—the throw off the bed was my guess. When I managed to get my eyes open, I saw Steve tucking himself into his pants first and when I moved my eyes to a different part of the mirror, I had to blink because I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. 

At the same time I said, “Wanda?” Steve said, “Who the fuck are you?” Steve’s head snapped in my direction, wide eyes landing on me. “You know her?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Wanda was the last name she had been going by, hadn’t it? I hadn’t seen her in a while, even before finding salvation in Steve. I pushed up onto my elbows and turned my head to get a better look at her and I frowned because she looked… terrified. Not much scared an incubus. Especially one with Wanda’s powers. She sent princes of Hell running. Whatever was happening, I neither wanted to have this conversation leaning over a bed with my ass out nor did I want to leak come all over my wedding tux. This suit was amazing and I didn’t want to think about the dry cleaning bill for  _ that _ .

“Hey, babe?” I glanced over my shoulder at Steve, who was looking a little freaked out. 

“Huh?” He tore his eyes away from Wanda, pointing a finger at her. “Is she a…?” 

“Yes, but she’s an incubus. We can talk about that in a minute.” I smiled a little. “Can you get one of the plugs out of the drawer and grab the tissues?” 

“But…” Steve looked at Wanda then back at me, eyebrows raised in question. My poor, sweet husband who had just fucked me within an inch of my life was also starting to blush. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head Wanda who was starting look impatient. 

I mouthed  _ give us a minute _ . To Steve I said, “It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.” And then some. “Plug, please? And tissues?” 

“R-right.” He took a deep breath and sounded calmer when he repeated, “Right.” 

Steve rubbed by back while he pushed the plug in, groaning because I was sensitive as hell, but it also felt good. He kept the throw draped over me while he wiped his come from the inside of my thighs, but when I turned over the air and put my pants on, I threw it to the side. Steve made some kind of choking sound. “She’s seen my dick before, babe.” 

“That is not helping.” 

I shrugged and stood to pull my pants up and zip them. I didn’t bother with the belt and I took my other shoe off. “What are you doing here, Wanda? I was enjoying some postcoital bliss with my new husband.” 

“I need your help,” she in her softly accented voice, clutching a duffle bag close to her chest. She bit her lip, the red glow of her green eyes strangely comforting. She walked over to the bed and Steve tried to pull me back, farther away from her. 

“She isn’t going to hurt us,” I told him. “You’re not right?” 

“No.” She sent me flat look and carefully set the bag on the bed, pulling the zipper back slowly and reaching inside. She looked between Steve and I then pulled something from the bag and—

“What the  _ fuck  _ did you do?” I stumbled back into Steve who wrapped his arms around me. “Is that what I think it is?” 

I didn’t need to ask. I knew what it was before she turned fully to face us, cradling a demon baby in her arms. And not just any demon, a high level one from the looks of it. “I need you to watch her.” 

“You do not get to crash my wedding night with a demon baby and ask for favors!” I glared at her.

“A demon what now?” Steve asks in a mix between disbelief and horror. 

“They will not find her while she is with you. Please, I—I made a mistake, but it is not her fault.” Wanda peeled the blanket back more, uncovering what I was beginning to suspect was her daughter. What did you do, Wanda? She looked down at the infant in her arms, eyes soft, and carcasses a red skinned cheek with her finger. “I just need time to fix this so she will be safe.” 

“What is going on?” 

Wanda and I both ignored Steve. I’d make it up to him later. I swallowed hard and walked closer, peering down at the baby, who blinked up at me with eyes just like Wanda’s. Sighing, I held my finger out to her and she gripped it in a tiny, claw tipped hand. “Who was it?” 

Wanda just shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily. 

“Seriously, what is happen—Oh, my God.” Steve came up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, but he broke off mid-sentence. I frowned up at him until Wanda gasped and when I looked back down at the baby, I could see why. 

Wanda’s daughter still had her eyes, but her red skin was now a more pale, pinky human shade. Well, that was… different. “What just happened?” 

“I guess she’s an overachiever like her father,” Wanda said wryly. 

I rolled my eyes, more at myself than anything, and pulled Steve over toward the opposite corner. 

“Are you actually going to tell me what this is all about now?” Steve sounds pissed off and I don’t blame him. 

Taking his hands in mine, I squeezed them. “Wanda did something she should have and now her kid is in danger.” I took a quick peek at Wanda who was rocking her baby, humming. Looking back at Steve, I told him, “Certain demon species are not supposed to intermingle and they sure aren’t supposed to procreate. Apparently, Wanda did both.” 

“Of course. And this is a friend of yours?” 

“More like an acquaintance. We grew up together, but she belonged to someone else.” 

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Steve pulled his hands free and cupped my face between them. 

“Nope.” 

He planted a brief kiss on my lips and when he pulled back, he blew out a breath and his lips thinned. “Are we babysitting a demon?” 

“If you don’t mind? Just for a little?” 

“She is kind of cute,” he says, startling a laugh from me. “Goose is going to be mad, though.” 

“Probably. But when isn’t he?” 

Steve gives me a quick smile, then said, “Alright, Wanda, you got yourself a demonsitter.”

Why did I think our lives were ever going to be normal? I was a succubus who had found salvation we were all taught to believe was a myth. The least I could do was help someone else. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last part of this series. There might be a spin off? At some point but not any time soon. I wanted to write some fluffy Steve and Bucky and I did 😂 
> 
> I want to focus on my other series and I might do some random one shots (Stucky and Stony) based off some prompts I found and just random ideas. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who read this! I so appreciated all the kudos and comments. And I’m so happy you liked this fic. ❤️


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